


He Foresaw the Future

by PandoraButler



Series: Black Butler Backstories [5]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: headcanon?, potential theory?, reaper!vincent, slightly canon setting, vincent as sirius black
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23796898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandoraButler/pseuds/PandoraButler
Summary: My love for Vincent Phantomhive has taken over and, in short, I wrote this because I don't want him dead.
Relationships: Diedrich & Vincent Phantomhive, Rachel Phantomhive & Vincent Phantomhive
Series: Black Butler Backstories [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1053719
Kudos: 1





	He Foresaw the Future

Everyone knows who Vincent Phantomhive is. That is to say, most people have heard the name once or twice in their lives. In fact, the only person that doesn't know who Vincent Phantomhive is would be Vincent Phantomhive himself. Strung into a life of endless tedium, day in and day out, doing exactly what was expected of him all whilst wearing a smile that made one inquire about his true motives. Hollow eyes and a toothy grin. Sound familiar? Perhaps it is comparable to the masked eyes and smirk of one certain undertaker. 

In any case, Vincent had a certain knack for things. It can't be considered premonition or anything of that sort. He just, well, he could sense the way the world worked. He could get a good read on people and figure out their next move. It was a blessing and a curse. Blessing, because Diedrich was simply the easiest to read. Curse, because he felt a dark shadow everywhere he went.

"This 'request' of yours, is that an order?" Diedrich huffed and rested his cheek on his hand. 

"Hm, well," Vincent glanced down at the child currently clinging to him. "More like a 'favor' I'd say." 

Diedrich scoffed, moving his hand to shake off the idea. "I can't imagine you dying earlier than me." 

Vincent smiled, in that unnerving way of his, "You never know." 

"Father, are you going to die?" the young one looked up with tear-filled eyes. Vincent pat his head lightly. 

"Everyone dies eventually, my darling boy, but it's the choices we make after the loss that truly impact us."

"Don't you mean the choices we make before we die?" Diedrich raised an eyebrow. 

"No, in this case, I'm quite certain the choices my children make after I die will have much more weight than when I was alive," Vincent sighed. 

"Stop talking as if you're going to die," Diedrich frowned. 

"The future isn't certa-" 

"Shut up, damn you!" Diedrich slammed his hand down on the table. "The world can barely keep itself together with you in it, if you were to die everything would go to Hell!" 

Vincent snickered. "To Hell, indeed," he glanced down at his child. 

"Stop talking in godforsaken riddles. Rely on people once in a while!"

"I am," Vincent's smile never left his face. "I just asked you for a favor, didn't I?" 

"Father, I don't want you to die," the boy hugged Vincent close. 

"It's unsettling to see you with a child in your lap," Diedrich admitted, calming himself down. 

"Why is that?" 

"Because you haven't loved a single thing in your entire pathetic life," Diedrich crossed his arms. 

"Is that so?" Vincent thought about it for a moment. Of course, Diedrich had known him for quite some time and Vincent's self, as aforementioned, was the one thing he couldn't understand. "Love is a wonderful thing," he spoke fondly, "but it can bring forth horrific disaster. Perhaps the reason you believe I have never loved is because I've been avoiding such a disaster. I've been subconsciously avoiding attachment to this world, wondering briefly if the next will be more entertaining." 

"You speak as though you aren't human." 

Vincent said nothing, simply smirked. 

...

Vincent looked at the chessboard on his desk. He moved pieces and frowned at the result. "So, it's time. The pawns are restless and I've made too many foes. This sequence of events was unavoidable, but I didn't expect it to be so soon," he closed his eyes and sighed. A fierce ache struck his head, he groaned, wincing and brought his hand to his face. That terrible feeling, the ominous black shadow. 

"Vincent!" Rachel opened the door to his office. She was panicking but without knowing the reason behind it. "Something is wrong, I can sense it." 

"Night has fallen," Vincent looked out the window, "they must be here." 

"Who? Who is here? Vincent, what about the twins?" 

"Rachel cal-" Vincent hastily walked out from behind his desk and held her close, moving her out of harm's way. A sword pierced his back, he wasn't fast enough. He should've just pushed her out of the way but his lingering feelings acted on their own. He wanted company as he died. 

Warm blood pooled out of his wound and he felt her blood mingle with his. They both fell to the ground, still embraced, and his consciousness slowly dwindled. He gazed at anything he could fix his eyes on, unable to fully move to glance at his killer. 

_This wasn't quite how I imagined I'd die_. He admitted. Rachel coughed and struggled to move but her already weak constitution was forcing her to lose consciousness faster than him. "Vincent?" she muttered, trying to grab ahold of him. "Vincent? The twins...we have to-" her body went limp in his arms. _I'm sorry to bring you down with me_. Vincent could barely keep his eyes open for much longer. His eyelids like rocks. _Sorry, Diedrich, but you were wrong_. 

The dark shadow he'd sensed all of this time finally appeared before him. The light at the end of the tunnel. He refused, using the last of his willpower to force his eyes open again. "Oh?" the shadow laughed. "Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive, I've come to collect your records but it would seem you have quite a strong will. You were supposed to die in a fire, you know? But you instead chose to kill yourself. How interesting...considering you yourself said you were subconsciously avoiding attachment to this world, didn't you know the outcome of suicide?" 

_What do you mean?_

"You purposely got in the way of the sword, so I welcome you to your new life as a reaper," the shadow extended its hand for Vincent to grab. He could feel a great pain in his eyes, as if they were being entirely overwritten. He groaned and convulsed, his body rejecting the healing of his wounds. "Your name will be Sirius Bl-" 

Vincent gritted his teeth and slapped the shadow's hand away. He gained enough strength to stand up. "Rejecting me? I see, well, then I shall just overwrite this little thing here..." the shadow took out a quill and opened a glowing book. "Vincent Phantomhive died today in a terrible fire, just as he was supposed to," the shadow giggled. "You can't be sought after by the reapers if they don't know you're a reaper. And luckily for you, I'm in charge of such things." Vincent held his hand by his eye, it seemed to glow all on its own, casting a yellow light on his palm. Just the one though, his rejection of this shadow ceased the transformation of the other eye. He could feel certain memories leave him. He tried to cling to them but the identity that was already foreign to him held no more weight in his mind. 

"Sirius Black," the shadow poked his forehead and Vincent was certain he could sense a grin. He was enveloped by the shadows as the fire started. "The shadows will tell a different story but you will still be dying in a fire, I'm afraid," the shadow laughed then disappeared. Vincent would never know what the others saw or assumed about his death. All he could feel was the heat of the flames on his skin. He wanted to scream out from the pain, but he forced it aside and retreated from the manor. The further away from his human life he got, the further his memories became. What he could once pretend to cling to, was no longer there for him to try. 

And, for the second time that night, a supernatural being appeared before him. Celestial hair and a fascination for stars in his outfit. "I've been waiting for you, you know?" he smiled, grabbing his hand. The confused male stared at the stranger. "My name is Blavat, a pleasure to meet you."

"I'm-" he pressed his free hand to his forehead, unable to remember anything but the name drilled into him by the shadow. "Sirius?"

The stranger chuckled. "A or B? There are two, you see?" He opened up his cloak and pointed to the stars inside. The former earl grabbed the spot on his chest where his wound had been, feeling it opening up. He felt himself losing consciousness. 

"Oh dear," Blavat caught him. "We better get you taken care of soon with your half-and-half condition. I don't want you to see an undertaker just yet," he grinned, staring up at the night sky. "He has enough earls to play with, after all." 


End file.
